


Slumming It

by alchemicals



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Everyone's in Muggle London, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Good Draco Malfoy, M/M, Muggle AU, Slice of Life, This is such a cute little fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22804642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemicals/pseuds/alchemicals
Summary: Harry's glad they found each other. They're all family to him, even with all the arguing and Millie's cat's hair getting everywhere, and even with Blaise always getting in Pansy's way of the TV, or the way Ron and Hermione argue with anything with a mouth- still, he loves them.And he might just slightly be IN love with Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Millicent Bulstrode/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 7
Kudos: 177





	Slumming It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This fic was just waltzing around my Google Docs so I quickly added an ending and called it a day haha. It's from back in my Flower Shop Boy days so the writing style is quite different from my current, darker style. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this light-hearted mess! Leave a kudos and maybe a comment if you do <3

**"Good God, man! Why are there no noodles and chips left?"**

* * *

“Blaise, get out of the bloody way, you idiot!” Pansy screeches, reclining on her spot by the sofa, her eyes glued to the night’s episode of America’s Next Top Model. “Or, Circe herself help me, I’ll throw this remote at you.”

Harry snorts, burying his head into Luna’s left leg, which is a lot less comfortable than the sofa pillow, he’ll admit, but it’s warm and wrapped in a neon yellow leg warmer. Blaise doesn’t pay any attention to Pansy’s threats, only sticks his tongue out and goes back to his conversation with Ron and Hermione.

Although, Harry muses, dragging his latest bottle of cheap whiskey to his lips, conversation is a bit too nice a word for it.

“Screaming competition, maybe,” Luna says, looking across at Harry, who blinks at her. Is she a Legilimens, or something? 

Luna giggles, shaking her head. “No, silly, you just talk out loud when you’re a bit off your rocker.”

Harry huffs, waving an impatient hand at her. “Alright, Luna, but ‘m not off my rocker. ‘M just a bit… tipsy. Floaty, like.”

“And that’s why you’ve got half a blunt behind your ear and six beer cans around you, is it?” Millicent pipes up from the other side of Luna, probably stroking Minxy and shedding hair all over the place. “I do not shed hair, Potter, I’ll have you know I -”

“I think he meant Minxy, Mills,” Hermione says loudly before she goes back to berating Blaise.

Harry smiles, nodding his head and dislodging a stray curl into his face. “That’s wha I meant, Millie, honestly, keep up.”

Millicent huffs, but Harry isn’t too worried. The woman’s a bit like her cat - all hissing and snarling until someone pets her. He wrinkles his nose, God that sounded odd. Shaking his head, Harry looks around the apartment’s living room, taking in the - admittedly blue - smoke wafting through the air. 

It took him an age to get the place ready for actual living, what with Kreacher having died and Harry shoving the whole Grimmauld Place thing into the Ministry’s less than capable hands before scarpering the Wizarding world altogether. 

There hadn’t been anywhere magical for him to go, back then, just after the war when everything was so fresh and at the forefront of everyone’s mind. So he’d done the sensible thing, and left for Muggle London, transferring all his gold into pounds, finding a good apartment that was far too big at first, and setting up a bank account.

Hermione and Ron came after him, after all of Hermione’s attempts at doing anything remotely like activism were shut down. In Harry’s personal opinion, he thinks she rather suits the Muggle activist life better than the Magical Ministry-fighting one. Ron hadn’t wanted to continue his Auror training after realizing that, even after the big Ministry cleanup, bureaucracy still lived to tell the tale.

It was easy, and fun, with only them there. Then Luna had arrived with Millicent in tow, telling him that wherever she went, Luna would go, too. And what was he supposed to do, turn down a couple that had been shunned by all of the Wizarding kind? He’d let them stay, and it was weird, having Millicent there, but ‘Bulstrode’ had turned to ‘Millie’ quite quickly, and it was alright, after that.

Harry still thinks Pansy’s arrival, along with Greg and Blaise, will forever be the weirdest. Even weirder than Malfoy’s. Pansy had been shaking with cold, and Greg and Blaise had been giving her half of their portions of whatever food they could get, to help with the baby - but Pansy had miscarried, right there on Harry’s fucking doorstep.

It had been terrifying, and taking care of an emotional Pansy had been mentally scarring, but eventually, the household had gotten to a place where everyone wouldn’t break down at the mention of even the word ‘infant’.

And last came Malfoy, bloodied and bruised, his arm half hanging out of his shoulder socket, and still looking a damn sight more beautiful than Ginny ever had.

Of course, Hermione had fixed him up, put him on the last few of the potions from helping Pansy recover, and they all settled into this new life.

Scars and dark spots still remain, obviously, but deep down, Harry thinks they’re all secretly happy to have found each other. Life had been shit, and talking through everything from their past had been painful, but he’s glad they did it.

A hard, rectangular object slams into his face, and Harry cries out in shock, touching his nose gingerly.

“Sorry, Harry, I meant to get Blaise, but the bugger fucked out of my way before I could mutilate his head.”

Blaise tuts from behind the couch, only the top of his afro visible above the soft velvet. “Jesus Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me?”

Pansy mutters something unintelligible that sounds a bit like ‘I can only pray’ before she turns back to glue her eyes to Tyra Banks and her low-class models.

Harry opens his mouth, half in the mind to tell them that they’re soon to be one man down if his nose starts bleeding when the door to the living room slams open and a distraught Draco Malfoy rushes in.

“Fridge - the fridge is empty!” Malfoy pants, one hand on his chest as if to slow his raging heartbeat.

Why, Harry doesn’t know, seeing as the lazy sod never does a stitch of exercise.

“Draco, I made food yesterday. Are you certain there’s nothing?” Hermione pipes up, dusting her jeans as she struggles to her feet. See, Harry’s not the only one who had a bit to drink.

 _You’re still the only one that smokes jay, Potter_ , a voice says in his mind. The voice sounds suspiciously like Malfoy.

Malfoy in question waves an impatient hand, and Luna flashes Harry a cheeky grin. “You two spend far too much time together. He’s even picked up on your hand waving thing,” she says.

Harry narrows his eyes at her, and he’s about to tell her that he does not have a ‘hand-waving’ thing when Malfoy throws himself onto the couch, tangling his legs in Harry’s.

“You don’t understand! We’ve run out of noodles and oven chips!”

Greg, who’d been sleeping rather deeply by the fire, shoots up like a rocket. “Good God, Man! Why are there no noodles and chips left?”

And Millicent says, “‘Cause Ronald decided scarfing them down would help him get that job interview.”

“Oi!” Ron shouts, getting to his feet and glaring playfully at Millicent. “I was nervous. My appetite wasn’t what it usually is.”

“Like an elephant’s, you mean?” Luna smiles up at him, ducking and narrowly avoiding a stray pillow thrown at her head. “Your Nargles are showing, Ron.”  
Harry tunes out the endless argument, used to it all now that it’s been almost 2 years with them all together like this. The top of Malfoy’s thigh is pressing into his hip, and the git’s wrapped his arms securely around his waist, begging and moaning pitifully to go to the local Tesco and buy more ‘sustenance.’

“Christ, Malfoy, it’s gone one in the morning,” Harry says, trying to speak past a mouthful of silky blonde hair. “Can’t you wait until tomorrow?”

Malfoy wriggles, sliding his legs along Harry’s until sparks shoot down his spine, curling around his lower abdomen and squeezing.

“No, Potter,” he says loudly. “I cannot! I mustn't die like this, starving to death in my own family home. What sort of friends are you all, to let a man die in front of your very eyes? I ought to -”

“Hang on, did he say ‘family home’?” Ron calls, stepping back from arguing with Millicent, his face as flushed as the red hair he keeps cropped short these days. “Aw, Draco, I didn’t know you cared.”

“Fuck off, Weasel,” Malfoy says, but it’s half lost in the crook of Harry’s neck. “Potter, please can we go get more? My life depends on it.”

If he’s honest, Harry’s still a bit dazed from Malfoy’s unwitting show of affection - ‘family home’, honestly - and the ponce’s turtleneck has ridden up so the feeling of skin against his sends Harry’s brain into overdrive.

 _Focus, Potter._ Why does his internal voice sound like Draco Malfoy?

“Right, yes, okay,” he says, curling a hand against Malfoy’s hip. “Let’s go, at 1AM, to grab some pot noodles and oven chips like the mad plonkers that we are.”

Malfoy practically glows as he slips off of Harry, taking his lovely pressure and warmth with him, leaving Harry cold and wishing he’d had the courage to bend down and kiss the beautiful man.

Shaking his head, Harry settles in against Luna and looks up to find sad eyes watching him. He raises an eyebrow. 

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Harry,” she says, which makes no sense, quite frankly, as he feels as old as he’s ever going to get. His knees have already started making these horrid creaking noises every time he stands up. Luna just smiles, reaching up to pat the top of his head. “Maybe you’ll learn how to stop talking out loud when you’re out of it, too!”

Grumbling, Harry forces himself off the sofa and narrowly avoids stepping on Minxy’s tail as she streaks past. Millicent follows in hot pursuit, rattling a box of that shite gourmet cat food. Harry winces, the memory of the taste of the thing fresh in his mind. He still never got Malfoy back for that dare.

“So are you going to stand there all day, Potter, or are we embarking on our journey?” Malfoy calls from the front door. Somehow, which Harry notices when he bothers to take a look around the room, everyone’s managed to get to the hallway in the half a second it took him to stand up.

“You’re all mental,” he declares, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Honestly, they won’t even be open by the time we get there.” Still, he hurries to meet the others, and they all spill out onto the apartment complex, Hermione locking the door behind them.

Malfoy immediately wanders over to Harry’s side, that radiant smirk on his face. Harry has to look away, or else Malfoy will catch the look of absolute adoration Harry probably has on. The thought makes him pause. The booze makes it a little hard to think, but something clicks in his head.

Fuck. Harry bites his lip. It just had to be him, didn’t it?

Apparently, he has no regard for his own state of mental well-being. He just had to go and fall in love with Draco Malfoy. 


End file.
